Scenic Freak
by BeseechBedlam
Summary: It's an Alex/Leah pairing... Yeah. I haven't seen this attempted, so I decided to take a whack at it because Leah doesn't get the credit she deserves and Alex is just downright adorable. (Flames are very, very welcome, as are any reviews that you, reader, are so generous as to give.)
1. Chapter 1

She kissed like poison, her tongue nicking to and fro like quivering nightshade as his lips' mercury melted: "by the book." He was afraid of it all: mortified. His long-fingered hands -all shredded and weeping- wound themselves in her dark, seraphic hair, being as careful as he wished he could be. He wanted her; He needed her; He loved her; His miserable, molten mouth let fly all the secrets he ate when the sunlight came. Crows exploded then as they explode now and Alex Dunkelman woke with both a shudder and the makings of a painful erection.

Sighing, he sat up and unbuttoned his clammy flannel shirt with fingers that felt like rain on his chest, appreciating the bruises there with a measure of awe. Queasy purples, greens and cloying yellows smirked up at him. He let his mud-encrusted fingers cover his eyes, mercifully allowing himself a moment of absolution in which Alex marvelled at his own disquieting idiosyncrasies; he was a man aroused by his nightmares and riveted by his very own battered body. With perverse satisfaction, a smile split his face and Alex looked out of the mirror- his mellifluous eyes wilted beneath his erratic mane of unkempt hair, just as they always had; his over-bitten top lip was burst just like it was the day before; the contours of his face had remained the same. But his grin distorted it all. Alex grinned because he was a monster: his very own variety of scenic freak.

This thought in mind, he shrugged off his flannel shirt and into an oversized, grey top that held him like Santa hugs children at the mall; delicately, frigidly- afraid somebody might press molestation charges. He added another, for good measure, before hauling his school bag into his shoulder and stepping into the hall as confidently as he could. He forayed down the stairs and out the front door without incident, too obstinate to admit he had been holding his breath. Alex sat morosely at the beautifully vandalised bus stop, reading declarations of undying affection and the polite profanities to which every piece of public property eventually becomes acquainted. With a pen-knife, he scripted his own memento, making believe that the girl he wrote of sat beside him: L + A. He knew it was childish, so he etched it in deeper. He imagined her snarl, the curl of her lips and her nails in his neck. He realised that she'd make him pay if she ever caught wind, so he scratched once, softly; fiercely, again- until finally, he let the blade drop. He snatched it from the asphalt as the bus trundled into view.

No time was too short to wait in anticipation of his ritualistic bus ride and the intrinsic agony therein. Aboard the thirty bus, there was no Brandon. There was no Quint. There were no California condors. But the sight of Leah Hellerman made his gut sink more than a physical blow or a semi-devoured carcass ever could. At least, that was what Alex told himself whilst his brutish step-father's fist wasn't lodged excruciatingly in his stomach. Quicksilver seemed to dribble through his veins, and he looked out the windshield of the bus, hesitating: through the speckled glass, he saw hope, so he flashed his bus pass to the driver and sullenly stole his gaze away. What happened next came in a blur:

_I sat down. In her seat. Yes, that one. The one beside the frosty window which framed her sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose and- Oh lord, she does not look impressed. Not that I'd ever go to any particular effort to impress her anyway- snotty bitch. But dear god, that nose of hers is awful cute when she's looking down it. What would it take for a girl like her to get onto a bus like this and sit down on the lap of a guy like me?_

_"Alex." Leah breathed coolly. "I think you're sitting in my seat." I smirked to myself- how hedonistic and conceited she is!_

_"You've never spoken to me before, Miss Hellerman." I rasped, antagonizing. Even to my own ears, my voice sounded like sandpaper and cigarettes._

_"And I've never seen you smile, Mister Dunkelman." She countered, her lips puckering like apples. Yes, that's what they looked like. Apples. Biblical references aside, it'd be lovely to take a bite out of them. "Now, please move." Submissive as ever, I went to move, but as the bus filled up with busy folks going about their busy lives, Leah was forced into the seat beside me. She looked murderous, to say the least, but she didn't move. All she did was snatch her earphones from her purse and jam them into her ears._

_Peering over her scantily-clad shoulder, I asked her what she was listening to, to which she replied with the dirtiest look I have ever seen captured on the face of a living human. "Leah," I asked deliberately; "Do you live on a planet of the perpetually pissed off?" At this, she smiled. She smiled. She smiled. If I wasn't already mad about her before, I certainly am now._

His doubts dissipated, Alex stole a kiss. With a hand slick with sweat and cloaked in his overlong sleeves, he cupped her cheek, turned her gorgeously scowling face towards his. Leah's lips –ever reminiscent of serpents, illicit gratification and apples- quirked, poised to protest; Alex scrambled for the occasion. His wind-burnt mouth caught the squeak she made in hers; her fingers and their preposterously manicured nails curled over his cerise ears; their eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

I know I don't deserve an Author's Note, and nobody really reads them anyway, but just in case you were wondering; I don't own any of this. All credits go to Wes Craven and the respective companies that made the film possible.

Also, John Magaro is adorable, even as a schizophrenic murderer. Just putting that out there. **  
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	2. Chapter 2

All too soon, Leah wrenched herself away. Her eyes scintillated scathingly as she floundered for words. "You kissed me." She stated bluntly, her voice nasal and her eyebrows raised. "Alex Dunkelman, you _kissed me!_" she shrieked, her voice piercing his ears as her words pierced his fragile ego- as injured as he was, he adjusted his façade and feigned nonchalance. Painfully, he forced himself to smile, the skin splitting over the residual swelling subsequent to Quint's battering. "Don't just sit there grinning like a hyena! Say something!" Leah cried, her open palm hitting his chest; it was more of an imploration than a genuine attempt at violence.

"I think you were about to say something. Before I interrupted you." He pressed, stony smile poised like a weapon, a shield and a suit of impenetrable armour: Alex wouldn't allow his countenance to crumble in the face of a little discomfort. After all, pain was his element.

"I was about to answer your goddamn question," she howled, her voice elevated to an awkward octave. The outburst garnered disapproving glances from the general public and the pair of them looked away; Alex, out the window at the monotonous expanse of suburbia and Leah at her lap, smoothing the wrinkles in her jeans.

Resolutely avoiding eye contact, he mumbled, "We don't tell anyone about this, alright?" Out of his peripheral vision, he saw her sniff.

"Why shouldn't I?" She spat in a venomous whisper, so poison that it desiccated the air between them.

"Because think about it, Leah," he began, his voice coloured with an elusive American accent. "Do you think it'd be great for Fang's social standing if everyone knew who she'd been snogging? Especially if said someone was Riverton's resident punching bag? In the grade below? And on public transport, no less?"

"Okay, stop, I can already see my social life flashing before my eyes." She acquiesced, her eyes widening and hands fluttering. "But what does it matter to you? I swear, Dunkelman," she menaced as her hands meandered up his neck and into his dishevelled hair, callously tugging his head back to expose his throat. With a shudder and an eruption of goosebumps, he let the smile fall. "If you're up to something –trying to blackmail me or extort me or god knows what else trawls through your twisted little mind- you'll regret it, understand?" With the eyes of a child, he nodded as best he could with Leah's hands pulling back his hair and murmured in the affirmative. "Nothing leaves the pair of us, alright?" On and on, Alex nodded. "Promise?"

"Yeah, Leah, I promise. Could you maybe let go of my hair?" He meekly requested, at which –for the second time that day- she smiled at him.

"Not a chance, Dunkelman." She gazed up at him through long, voluptuous lashes with a dark smirk that promised punishment. "Not a chance…" And with those words, she kissed his neck –bit it softly, gave him lovebites-, holding onto his curls and starkly ripping into his desires:

* * *

Curse you, mandatory family gatherings and your interference with my writing. Whatever. I'll finish this chapter later tonight.


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